Cod Almighty | Diary

Three half-decent refs in a row, what's going on?

23 March 2023

After a totally turgid and pointless afternoon watching politicians bickering endlessly about something on which everyone made their mind up yonks ago your Guest Diarist was excited to slide in to bed last night and put the football on. And, woah, even more thrilled to see a team list showing that Mr Hurst had thrown a bit of caution to the winds and picked an attacking line up full of running and with a point to prove. And, yea! - the first half whizzed by in a whirlwind of attacking intent, half chances and Town dominance. Sadly no goal but a big fat cigar.

Meantime in the other room my partner spent the time watching a dog dying on telly in soapworld. We knew it was coming because in the last episode an eccles cake had been theatrically dropped AND NOT PICKED UP. Being lifelong dog owners we have an insane phobia about grapes, currants etc so it was obvious the dog was gonna be in trouble. A dog called Cerberus after a mythical dog beast who licked you to death on your way in and ripped your flesh on the way out. By the way I saw a clickbait headline yesterday claiming parents had been refused permission to call their newborn Hades. These rules obviously don't apply in soapworld.

Predictably she came in to my room at half time to ask how Town were doing and to tell me Cerberus was dead of kidney failure. Great I said (about Town not the made-up dog, I shed tears for even made up things on the telly). Much more energy than I expected and playing progressive open football - we could have been two up. What usually happens to my team, she pointed out, is after a half like that we lose one nil.

But we didn't although the second half played out very differently. The Mansfield manager told that great big bloke Boateng to smother McAtee and stick as close to him as a parent taking a toddler on their first walk. He obviously also told his defenders to man up and deal with that 'pesky little varmint' Lloyd for Town were pretty much nullified. By the end a lot also looked knackered - it had been a long week after all. But they mostly kept their shape and earned a point away to a pretty decent side in a windy old game. The travelling support was big, noisy and had a drum. Two balls ended up on the derelict stand roof and one went right over it. And the referee (who arrived having recently issued a blizzard of yellow and red cards) had a decent game booking only one player (which was an obvious one). Mr Hurst was happy after the match and, by and large, so was I.

I remembered another nil-niller at Field Mill - April 1980 and about five of us went to the game in a state of nervous excitement in my old Morris Minor van. But the way things played out a draw got us promoted in front of ten thousand. And in the last game we stuffed the Blades 4-0 to win the league. Great team, great manager, great memories. But this era we have another great manager, that great team is building - slower than we want but we are getting there, and so many brilliant new memories. I know you young'uns will still be talking about them in forty years. See yer.